


The Price of Sacrifices

by Wealthywetsunny



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha!Rook, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Arguing, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Drama, Happy Ending, Humor, Internal Conflict, Love/Hate, Omega!Jacob, courting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-21 23:06:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30029232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wealthywetsunny/pseuds/Wealthywetsunny
Summary: It smells like Rook, which is frustrating, all her packages seem to have her scent wrapped around them like she threw them in with her batch of laundry. It makes the wolf in his brain howl and twist with abject pleasure, and he snarls in a very un-omega like way, trying to tamp those feelings down. He can’t control his biology, they both know that, and so she keeps on trying to win him over like the stubborn fool she is.It occurred to him weeks ago, on a day much like today in his office with the wind making too much noise outside, a fresh package on his desk that he carefully opens, that he’s being courted.
Relationships: Female Deputy | Judge/Jacob Seed
Comments: 9
Kudos: 22





	The Price of Sacrifices

**Author's Note:**

  * For [9shadowcat9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/9shadowcat9/gifts).



“Sir? You’ve got a package...sent from the Henbane, it looks like.”

Jacob, normally taking pride in just how well he’s able to mask his annoyance most days, sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t have time for this anymore. And at this point he’s honestly considering taking the lecture that’s sure to come if he crosses the lines of their regions to track down Rook, who’s favorite spot at the moment seems to be his sister’s territory. 

Someone has to stop this nonsense, and seeing as he’s the only one who knows about it…

“Do you want it?”

“Yeah just...did you check it?” Because despite the onslaught of presents coming in that have been so innocuous that it makes him laugh, he wouldn’t be surprised if she has some ulterior motive. It makes sense in the long run. Force him to lower his guard until one day she fits a bomb inside one of her gift bags to blow the Veteran’s Center to kingdom come.

“Yessir. It’s clear.”

“Then just leave it on the desk.”

It smells like Rook, which is frustrating, all her packages seem to have her scent wrapped around them like she threw them in with her batch of laundry. It makes the wolf in his brain howl and twist with abject pleasure, and he snarls in a very un-omega like way, trying to tamp those feelings down. He can’t control his biology, they both know that, and so she keeps on trying to win him over like the stubborn fool she is.

It occurred to him weeks ago, on a day much like today in his office with the wind making too much noise outside, a fresh package on his desk that he carefully opens, that he’s being courted.

The word isn’t meant for someone like him. He’s a far cry from being a good man worthy of an alpha’s care and attention. And if Rook would dare to step foot in the mountains and see him face to face then he would tell her that. He would do terrible things to her, throw her in the chair and make her run through his trials until the point gets across and she stops this nonsense. 

So far he hasn’t had much luck. Not when she spends most of her time dashing between the Henbane and Holland Valley. Though exactly what she’s doing there he isn’t too sure, his brother and sister are just as confused. The resistance in their respective territories haven’t gotten any stronger, and Rook hasn’t been seen going above and beyond for them like the Seeds had first expected she would. 

With a huff he fingers the label on the side of the box. Grabbing the twine that keeps it tied together before giving it a pull to undo it. He holds his breath like he always does when he peers inside.

It’s a knife. 

A switchblade, to be exact, with varnished wood that fits the curves of his hand. The tip is sharp to the touch, drawing a pinprick of blood when he runs his index finger over it. There’s a J that’s been seared onto the flat side of the blade, stretched thin because its shiny surface isn’t that wide.

It’s a nice enough tool, but it’s more the implications this knife carries that truly matters. He tosses it in a drawer with the rest of the gifts. Praying that’ll be the end of it, that if he just keeps ignoring her instead of feeding into it then she’ll have to give up sooner or later.

*****

His men, his very best, are cowering. Flinching under his hardened gaze when he casts a glare across the terrain and over them. And, of course, the boxes they’re holding.

“From Rook?” He asks, even if there’s no point. Who else could they be from?

He gets feeble nods and mutterings of ‘yes sir” in response, and it takes everything in him not to kill them all right on the spot. To be so scared of Rook when it looks like she didn’t even touch them...It makes his blood boil to know she has that kind of effect on his soldiers.

Jacob would’ve loved to be privy to that conversation. What the fuck did she even  _ say _ ?

“Load ‘em up. In the bed of the truck, and get back to your posts.”

Jacob doesn’t bother sifting through the myriad of boxes. He covers them up with a tarp so no one sees as he makes the drive back to the Center, the last thing he needs is for word to start spreading. The story would get twisted beyond belief and some idiot would no doubt think he’s in cohorts with deputy Rook. As if he asked for this.

She has no idea how difficult she’s making his life. 

Except she has to know, despite her idiocy, that showing off when he’s with his brother is the worse idea in the whole fucking world. It’s common practice, if you want to be accepted into a pack, especially one as tight knit as his siblings and him, but he hadn’t expected it. Not when he’s trying to have a semi-normal conversation with his brother about next week’s sermon and adding more security to his compound. 

Jacob’s got his thumbs tucked in his front pockets, watching the gates slowly open to let him out. Joseph is prattling on beside him, talking nonsense now, just to keep him a little while longer.

His brother is stronger than he thinks, he’s a martyr through and through, but Jacob can tell when he’s lonely. He’ll give him a call later tonight, set a dinner up with the whole family. Right now he wants to leave because Joseph’s compound is one big moshpit of smells. It’s doing a number of his system. Jacob doesn’t let his men use suppressants either, but the blood and grime usually cover up the scents of hundreds of wolves trying to fit in. Here there’s nothing but the natural biology of alphas and omegas, the muted undertone of a few select betas too. It’s giving him a headache, all the smells.

The gate finally clangs open, his truck idling nearby to take him back to the Center, and it’s without thought that he steps forward—only to be stopped by someone slamming into him from the side. They aren't big enough to send Jacob to the ground, but it does make him stumble a few steps back. A snarl rises up from his throat at the contact, and he grabs the young beta by the nape of his neck, holding him at arm’s length.  Jacob is moments away from tearing his larynx out with his teeth before Joseph stops him. A hand on his shoulder to draw his attention elsewhere.

At the ground.

Where an arrow is deeply embedded, a note tied to the feathered end. A lesser archer would’ve been thrown off by the extra weight holding their arrow down, but he knows that the mark was met. This was where they had wanted the arrow to land. Directly at his feet. 

Joseph swallows. Anxious. “Jacob…”

“Yeah I see it.” He shoves the beta back, tells him to fuck off elsewhere and ignores Joseph apologizing in his wake, thanking the wolf too. Jacob tells the guards nearby to shut the gates with a wave of his hand and stalks forward to pull the arrow out of the dirt. 

It smells like Rook. So fucking recognizable by now that it makes his toes curl in his boots. 

Joseph comes up behind him, reaching out with his scent first, which normally does wonders to calm him down. But now it only heightens his anxiety. His shoulders bunch up around his neck and he’s got a white knuckled grip on the arrow, his forefinger pressing into the sharpened point until it draws a pinprick of blood that he’s quick to smear into his skin. 

He doesn’t dare read the note here, that isn’t his intention at least, but Joseph circles around to his front and pulls the arrow out of his hands. Petting at his arm like he’s a startled animal about to bolt. And he would, if he wasn’t now convinced that Rook is out there waiting for him.

She wouldn’t hurt him, he sees that now, and he wouldn’t hurt her. That’s what scares him the most. That, god forbid, he might let her in and show a part of himself that scarcely sees the light of day. 

It’s later, after Joseph asks if he’ll stay the night for Jacob’s safety and his piece of mind, that he reads it outloud to the both of them. 

“She’s extending an olive branch, it would seem,” Joseph murmurs, coming to sit down on the couch beside Jacob. “She wants to meet with us.”

Jacob groans, burying his head in his hands. Of fucking course she does. 

“She wants to make us dinner.”

A normal alpha move, but it leaves a sour tang in his mouth. It’s uncharted territory that he’s trying to sort out on his own. The last thing he needs is his family being brought in on this.

“Is...something going on between the two of you?”

“Joe…”

Jacob falls back against the couch, frowning over at his brother. But Joseph doesn’t relent, nor does his push, he just waits patiently. Blinking and quiet. He’s such a saint and he hardly ever realizes it.

“She’s playing games, that’s all. You said it yourself, she’s a slippery, conniving snake.”   
  
His lips twist, scent going funny, “those…weren’t my exact words, but I’m glad to know you still listen to me.” He gives a rare smile. One that’s real. “On occasion.”

Jacob gives him a playful shove and stands up. Stretching his arms above his head until something pops.

“I’m gonna head off to bed. This whole day has been fucking exhausting.”

Joseph hums, putting the note down and grabbing instead for a journal filled with writing and half formed thoughts that had been left opened on the coffee table. He waves Jacob’s concern away about his own sleep schedule, tells him he’ll need his energy for tomorrow. 

Not like it matters, Jacob doesn’t get much rest that night anyway.

*****

Jacob grits his teeth, jaw clenching so hard that a dull ache starts up not too long after. 

Rook is taunting him, she has to be. She’s also nearby, judging by the fresh tracks in the mud and her lingering scent. Minty with a tinge of old, month eaten books. Like home, he told Joseph in a moment of thoughtlessness. 

Which made his brother throw a fit because she was the devil in disguise. The snake in their garden. They had both agreed on that, hadn't they? Except now...just a week passes and well...Jacob would beg to differ. She’s different from any alpha he’s ever met. She’s trying to  _ court _ him, which is more than anyone else has ever done. They usually take one look at his war torn exterior, his hardened face and scarred body, the way he snarls and holds himself...and they don’t bother with those lesser methods.

Jacob didn’t think he minded all that much. Except he didn’t realize what he had been missing.  _ This... _ This softness that’s swelling up inside his chest as he stares at the freshly killed deer splayed out on his cabin’s doorstep, which raises the question of how she knew where his cabin was, but he pushes those thoughts aside.

She’s showing him she’s a good alpha that can provide for him, that much is clear. Some basic textbook shit. But he’s slightly offended. Does she think that he’s not strong enough? That this whole charade he’s playing with his toy soldiers is just that? A charade?

He sucks in a deep breath and reminds himself that this is how courting works. He’s just unused to it, that’s all.

He steps outside and grabs the bundle of meat. Giving the surrounding woods a cursory glance. He tips his chin up, puts on a show with his neck exposed as he scents the air. She isn’t bothering to mask herself, though it’d be laughably easy out here with the dirty woods and all the lakes. 

Jacob won’t eat it right away, not until he has some of his own check it. To make sure it’s not poisoned or some stupid shit like that because—

“Hey.”

The voice is recognizable, so is the smell, but he still body slams her to the floor. A hand to her neck to keep her pinned. 

Rook doesn’t look scared in the slightest. She gives him a soft smile. Wrapping her hand around one of his wrists.

“How?” He asks in a low whisper. Nosing at her scent gland a second later when she keeps quiet. How is it that she was able to sneak up on him?

“You’re used to my scent by now, I guess. It, uh, wouldn’t raise any flags.”

He  _ hates  _ that she’s right. That she’s playing around with her own twisted kind of conditioning. Rook squirms under him, and he can tell that she’s itching to move. To touch him. To swap their positions so he’s the one pinned under her. 

No one has ever been able to do that, he wouldn’t let them. He’ll be damned if she’s the first. 

“What’re you doing here?” He asks in rasp. “Come to kill me?”

“Wha—no. God no. I’ve never met an omega so averse to...this…if you want me gone just say it. But you keep accepting my gifts—“

He lifts her up by the grip he has on her throat and slams her back down on the wood floor. “I can’t throw them away,  _ honey _ , the whole fucking county would find out what you’re doing. My family, first and foremost.” He doesn’t say that Joseph already has his assumptions—that rumors are already starting to swirl around. 

Rook is quiet for a long time. Lost in her own thoughts. Her hand on his wrist has moved higher to stroke his forearm, a curious gleam behind her eyes as she runs her digits across the bumps and divots of his scars. 

It’s not unpleasant. It’s just...different. A kind of affection that makes him want to scream because it’s not right for God to throw him a bone this late in his life 

“You like it,” she whispers. Leaning up to kiss at his jaw. Right under where his beard ends. It’s a bold move, one that he should shut down before she gets any ideas to go further. But a small part deep inside his head asks him if that would be so bad.

Her other hand goes up to hold him by the nape of the neck. Behind that grip he feels strength, the kind that never fails to make a swell of pride raise up inside his chest. Knowing that he had a part in making her this way, even if she’s only been in his region for a day or so, if he had to guess. She’s strong because she’s learning to fight Eden’s Gate. and that should be worrying.

Then again, he hasn’t seen her out on the field for a while, his brothers and sister hadn't mentioned anything recently at least. Now he knows why. She’s been too busy with him. 

Oh that’s…

Fuck.

He groans softly, head tipping down as she scratches at his scalp with her fingernails in a wonderful way. 

Rook clears her throat and it’s only then that he realizes his eyes were closed. “I’m not asking for you to be soft for me.” She pries his hand away from her throat, to firmly rest on the floor beside her instead. He lets her and keeps it there. “There’s a reason I picked you Jacob.”

“Why?” His voice comes out hoarse because he knows it’s a stupid question.

“Jacob…”

The wind outside isn’t as bad as it was weeks prior, but now it’s almost impossibly loud. He closes his eyes and breathes deep, almost choking on the inhale. He pulls away from her and stands up fast. Too fast, blood rushes to his head and a wave of nausea pulls at him.

“Hey--”

“Leave, Rook.”

“But--”

“Alpha.”

The title comes out rough and unpracticed but it has the desired effect. Rook, up on her elbows to stare at him, goes curiously still. Her scent flaring out to curl around him. She purrs from deep inside her chest, eyes fluttering.

“O-okay.” She swallows and nods, getting up on shaky legs. Her eyes dart over to the deer she killed and harvested just for him, tongue flicking out to lick her lips. “Yeah, okay...Just...you should cook that. If you don’t have an ice box here.”

Jacob hums, refraining from telling her that he’s well aware how to go about preparing a hunt. She slips out the front door, giving him one last parting glance before he shuts the door and turns on the stove.

*****

Jacob paces the length of John’s living room, waiting as patiently as he can manage, all things considered. John makes his presence known by throwing his scent first, a nicety shared between family because he’s sure his brother can tell he’s already keyed up

In fact John is already checking for injuries Jacob could be hiding under his clothes. When he comes up empty, no immediate smell of blood, no outward signs of pain, he lightens up just a tad.

“What’s wrong, Jake?”

_ Jake.  _ He hasn’t called him that since they first reunited. Years ago, when John was broken and scared and the only person he dared to show those vulnerabilities too was his older brother who used to soothe his cries and rock him to sleep.

“Can we sit?” He says instead of answering right away.

John nods, but the worried tilt in his brow never fully goes away.

“It’s about Rook.”

“Ah. Is she causing trouble?” 

Jacob smiles, chuckling a little under his breath as he gives a soft shake of his head. “No...Of course not. She’s been quiet for a while.”

John isn’t connecting the dots as fast as Joseph might, not as quick to jump to any assumptions. Content to let Jacob talk at his own pace. He makes a damn good lawyer, that’s for sure.

“I think...I mean, I guess she’s trying to...to...court me?”

There isn’t any pause at all before John is laughing with pure joy, reaching out to shake Jacob by his shoulders. “You’re being courted?! Jacob, you dirty dog--”

“John--”

“How is it? How is she? Is she helping you make a nest?”

If John wasn’t his brother Jacob might just think he’s being cruel. Or ignorant to the situation--That deputy Rook is supposed to be the enemy. But Jacob knows better, he hears the longing in John’s voice. None of them have been courted before, it’s a pipe dream, nothing more. 

But for it to happen to one of them…the only omegas out of the four of them.

He’s happy, if not a little jealous. So Jacob has no problem entertaining him.

“She’s...oh I dunno John, she’s an alpha. As perfect as one can be, she’s doing everything right. She got me a knife, a couple new pistols and a rifle. A woodworking kit, a goddamn watch of all things, a blanket, just recently.” He pauses his rambling to breathe, looking down and away as his cheeks uncharastically turn pink. “They’re drenched in her scent. On purpose, of course. And...god I don’t know what to do. I was thinking maybe that…”

“You want help? From me?” 

“Yes.”

John smiles, laughing again. He leans into Jacob’s side, grinning like a fool. “Can I tell Joseph and Faith?”

He glares at John. “No.” He shoves his brother off and leans back into the couch, running a hand over his face. “What do I do?”

“I feel as if this is a trick question. You don’t do anything, Jake, you’re the omega. Just…take what she gives you. Actually use what she gives you, because I haven’t seen a damn thing yet so neither has she. If you want this to work, which you must if you’re telling me about it, then you have to truly accept her gifts.  _ Use them _ . Show her you’re appreciative.”

“I am.” It sounds weak to his own ears, and John confirms it with a snort.

“How about you give her a gift back?” John stands up, walking back and forth and talking with his hands. He thinks better like this, bouncing ideas off of someone. “A car, maybe?”

That’s certainly an option. One he shouldn’t entertain. Would it be rude to give something to an Alpha when they’re trying to win you over? Is this how courting works? Is it meant to go both ways?

This is more difficult than it should be.

“She likes cars?”

John hums, tapping his fingers against his jaw idly. “Well, any sort of vehicle really. I’ve seen her flying planes...riding in an ATV. She, uh, she.... _ commandeers,  _ a lot of them around the county. So I’ve seen.”

Jacob stands up, fingers clenched anxiously at his side. He isn’t sure why he came here, honestly, certainly John doesn’t know how to do this anymore than he does. It’s a comfort thing, he knows deep down, to no longer have to hold this secret along anymore.

John’s with him no matter what, and confirming that is all he needs.

It’s not until he’s in the mountains later that day, fingers drumming on the wheel in tune to the music on the radio, that he calls his men at the Vet Center. He won’t be back tonight, put Steven in charge, and let Deputy Pratt loose. Yes, he means  _ that  _ Pratt, Peaches, let him run free. No, it’s not a test, no one will stop him, no one will hunt him down with Judges or guns. He can go wherever he likes.

An olive branch, he tells himself, to show Rook that he’s a worthy omega like she seems intent on believing, which isn’t quite what he tells Joseph later when he asks where the young, male deputy has gone. 

Joseph’s mad, but ever since Rook stopped playing his games, fulfilling his visions, he’s been losing his temper more and more.

*****

It’s not fair, that John can do whatever the fuck he wants and get a slap on the wrist, but Jacob can hardly step a foot out of line before he’s being shoved right back with shackles binding him in place. He glares at Joseph from across the table, leaving his food untouched in favor of showing his displeasure. His brother sighs and lays his fork down, well aware that Jacob’s scent has been sour for the entirety of dinner.

“Jac--”

“Why can’t you just let me be happy?”

“Sometimes sacrifices have to be made.” He pauses, head tipping in consideration. “Last time we spoke you didn’t seem to want anything to do with deputy Rook.”

Jacob wants to yell and scream, he wants to flip the table over, even if John and Faith are just innocent bystanders to the matter. Instead he breathes in deep and composes himself, balling his napkin up in his lap, tearing it to shreds until Faith reaches across to him and holds his hand.

It’s a soft gesture he hardly deserves from her, he’s never been the warmest to their adopted sister, she’s always been forced to fight for his affection. She’s a sweet, young alpha that gives off the most calming feeling with nothing more than a glance. He appreciates the gesture, and he lets his scent unfurl to show that.

She smiles softly and moves back, giving him a nod to urge him on.

“You’ve got some nerve, Joe, to say I haven’t sacrificed anything at all for this family. For  _ you. _ I’ve given my entire fucking life for this project and you--” he stops himself before he says something he’ll regret. That was already a lot, and Joseph must think so too because his eyes are blown wide with surprise and he’s at a loss for words.

He can count on one hand how many times Jacob’s lost his cool like that.

“Brother, I--I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. I don’t like arguing with you.” He clears his throat and glances between John and Faith, both of whom are eating fast and not looking their way. Pretending that they’re not hearing anything at all.

“I had a vision, Jake, she’s a temptress. I thought we saw eye to eye on that.”

Jacob refuses to believe his brother’s supposed vision. Rook is good, she hasn’t any ill will. It’s hard for any wolf to hide their true feelings when they’re not on suppressants, and Rook sure isn’t, the delivery of those products was cut off years ago to keep the county pure and true to their nature.

He can’t convince Joseph, not alone, and not without proof. Without a word he stands up, chair scraping against the floorboards as he does so, and stomps off outside. He’s got a call to make.

*****

Rook is staring at him like he put the fucking stars in the sky, she has been for the past week now and it’s driving him mad. He glares at her, wills her to break eye contact first. She doesn’t. Her metaphorical tail wagging when he walks closer.

“Jake. Hey.”

He pulls up a chair, wooden and hard, something that’s bound to make his back ache something fierce when he gets up, and sits down with a huff in front of her. He kicks his legs out, rests his heels on the metal bars and regards her silently.

It’s meant to unnerve her, for most people the effect is instant, but she doesn’t seem to mind his deadly stare.

She shuffles closer on hands and knees, all scraped up from the cold cement floor. It could be worse though, she could be outside with the rest of them. He’s giving her special treatment, she has to see that, but he tried sticking her out there and his inner omega whined the whole night. He tossed and turned more than usual, kept stalking back over to his balcony to peer out at her sleeping form.

Rook was the strong and silent type though, a good alpha in so many ways, she didn’t complain once. Not now especially, when he’s gracing her with his presence. She clings to the bars of the cage, watches him with eager eyes, pushing her scent forward so strongly that it makes the few guards he allowed in the room look their way.

And Jacob...well he isn’t proud of his reaction. He growls at those who stop and stare. A warning so clear that it’s impossible to misconstrue.  _ She’s mine. Back off.  _

They aren’t mates, no bite marks on the other’s neck to proclaim that to be so, they haven’t even slept in the same bed. Haven’t had sex to mark each other up, to take over their natural scent with the opposite’s. Those indicators are missing and so of course his followers are looking. They’re allowed to look, technically.

Jacob heaves a sigh, balling his fists up in his lap to stop himself from lashing out.

“Stop that,” he grits, “control yourself, Rook.”

“I’m going into rut soon.” It comes out as a growl, a thick sound that rumbles from deep within her chest and makes his body respond accordingly. He isn’t the type to bare his throat so easily, but he gets the urge to. “Can’t you smell it?” Again she throws her scent, the one he’s become achingly familiar with, and he gets the subtle hint of something different. Something that wasn’t there when he first dragged her in.

“Rook--”

“When’s the last time you had someone to spend your heat with?”

He laughs, a loud sound he has to force into sounding mean. “Look around, deputy, you don’t think there are tons of willing alphas ready to hop on my dick?”

Rook tips her head to the side, considering him before speaking. “Mhm. Any of them ever fuck _ you? _ ” She pauses, smiling when he doesn’t answer. “No? Didn’t think so. They’re not brave enough to even ask, but I could make it so good for you.”

Jacob glances over at his guards, a beta and omega who are now staring anywhere but near them. He knows why, and it has more to do with the sudden shift in topic then Jacob’s earlier outburst. He clears his throat to get their attention and with a wave of his hand sends them outside. With the audience gone he can focus properly, speak more candidly. 

“Unless you’ve got something other than what you were born with under your pants, dep, I don’t think you’d be able to fuck me either.” Even if the thought sends sparks down his core, wrapping snug around the base of his cock.

“Got a few toys. Could teach you a thing or two, old man.”

Jacob chokes on his spit, leaning over with his forearms on his thighs to glare at her. He opens his mouth to speak, to give some sort of biting remark to stop this conversation that has so clearly spun out of his control, when she cuts him off. Changing the topic first.

“Is that the knife I gave you?”

He stills when she reaches past the bars and drags her fingertips along his outer thigh.  _ Upupup _ until she reaches his holster, currently holding his red hunting knife, and right next to that, the switchblade she gifted him a while back.

“I didn’t know you kept anything I got you...Never saw you with ‘em.”

Jacob doesn’t know what to say and so he stays uncharacteristically quiet. His foot bouncing nervously on the cement floor, echoing out a hollow tune.

“It’s good,” he finally says, scratching his jaw idly, “nice an’ sharp, works like a charm.”

Rook hums, pleased as punch, and looks up at him with that broad smile of hers. Her hand taps the sharp blade one, twice, then goes further up. Grasping the meat of his thigh.

“Let me out, Jake.”

“I--Don’t call me that.” He closes his eyes and hangs his head, feeling like the first time in years that he actually might break and cry.

“I won’t hurt you. You’d beat me in hand to hand anyway.” She shuffles as close as the bars will allow. “Please, let me outta here, let me love you.”   
  
He coughs, rubbing at his eyes to alleviate the pressure. He can’t. He just fucking can’t. Why doesn’t she understand that? He could make her see, surely, with enough time avoiding her and punishing all her acts of kindness. But would it be worth it? Could he live with the missed opportunity?

“Jake?”

“I can’t…”

“You won’t,” she challenges, correcting him so fiercely that he sucks in a breath. “I’m so skinny now I could slip out past these bars no problem.” As if to prove her point she gets up on her knees and pulls her shirt up. Letting him see the rows of her ribs, each one like the slats of an xylophone. She’s tiny now, her muscles all but gone, and he did that. He’s killing her, he isn’t even sure when the last time she ate was. She’s worse off than the rest of his prisoners.

He tosses the key inside the cage, watches with apathy as she struggles to her feet and unlocks the door. She puts her weight against it and stumbles out. Falling to her knees with a sickening crack. It must hurt but she doesn’t even wince.

Her feet are bare, shoes and socks taken along with the rest of her belongings when he first nabbed her, and they’re caked in mud. A few blisters too, dotting along her toes and the arch of her foot. He wanted to make her hurt, he wanted to push her away to prove a fucking point.

But she’s still here, crawling towards him until she’s sat between his spread legs. Resting her cheek against his inner thigh, the rough material of his jeans scratching her skin. It’s no place for an alpha, they both know that, and it makes his stomach roll at the thought that she’s not even fighting it.

Such a strange alpha, but so fucking perfect because he’s a strange omega, isn’t he?

“Alpha…”

She shushes him, hand moving to stroke his calf like he’s an animal. “Don’t needta call me that.” She sighs heavily, sagging against him with her eyes shut. “We aren’t close like that. Despite my best efforts.” 

When he looks down he notices the slight uptick to the corner of her lips. He also notices, a second later, that her hand has stopped moving. That her chest isn’t moving either.

“Rook?”

She’s quiet. Eerily so. Jacob reaches down and pets her cheek, pinches at her nose and waits for her to struggle. That never happens and that’s when the panic sets in. It startles him, has actual tears clinging to his lashes and threatening to spill down his cheeks.

He slips down, off the chair, not sure what he intends to do once he’s got her cradled in his arms. He opens his mouth a few times, struggling for words. 

“M’fine,” she slurs, just as he pries open one of her lids as gingerly as he knows how. “Still kicking. You’re gonna have to try a lot harder to get rid of me.”

“Almost did. Got rid of you, I mean” He lays her down, pushing her off his lap, and leans back against the chair he was just sitting in. They’re level now, like this, even if she’s resting back on her elbows. Watching him through heavy lids. 

“Mhm, thought you didn’t care.”

She’s prodding him, testing the water again, for the hundredth time despite all his previous refusals. He knows why. She can see right through him , she knows that he’s full of bullshit. All the fuss he’s kicking up isn’t real, there was never any true venom behind it.

Just confusion. Anger, a good dose of fear too.

Rook sees that. Sees him, more accurately. It’s probably the most exhilarating feeling he’s ever experienced. How can she do that? How can she get so deep inside his head that she’s now made her home there when he wasn’t paying attention?

Some might suggest witchcraft, God even, a higher power pulling the strings. He’s certainly met enough people to have heard all sorts of stories. Even so, they’re not mates, not bound by some trinity so strong neither can resist. They can make a choice, here and now.    
  
Jacob can starve her out, finish what he started and do what he does best. He could snap her neck, she’s too weak to fight back. The smallest beta pup would be able to take her. It’d be easy. And if he couldn’t live with the guilt that’s already welling up inside him...well he can wait. Toss her back in her secluded cage until she falls asleep, turn her over so he doesn’t have to look at her face and sink a blade in her neck.

He won’t. Can’t. He knows that, deep inside his bones as he stands up and helps her to her feet.

Rook accepts the help better than any alpha he’s ever known, she’s good like that. She stumbles along with him as he walks her out and across the hall to his bed turned office sometime in the past year. He lets her down on the chair behind his desk, unwilling to let her scent taint his bedspace.

It’s...difficult, having someone in his area. A place that only smells of him. It makes his hackles raise, worse than when he was in the army and had to get used to such a thing. Even worse than the homeless shelter, with their snippy alphas that were always picking fights and the betas who would blend into the background that Jacob always envied for not being targeted. He imagines if he had suppressants back then that he wouldn’t have been bothered, just based on looks alone. His scent gave him away, so sharp after years of being unrestrained.

Now though, Jacob’s antsy, despite having the upper hand. He’s in charge here, this is his domain, but he’s ready to snap. He steps back, rubbing his hands together nervously.

“Y’know,” Rook starts, breaking the tension they’re both obviously aware of, “I was hoping by now you’d already have a nest started, one that smells a little like me.” She laughs, sitting up a little higher with a sigh. “I sent you a few blankets once, a nice shirt to sleep in--had to guess your size--they all smelled like me for a reason.”

He nods, dropping his hands by his sides. He knows what she’s talking about. Among all the presents she sent those were the least subtle. But the thing is--

“I haven’t made a nest in years. Dunno how now.”

She scoffs, “nonsense. You never forget how to nest.”

At his silence she peers a little closely at him, making him feel like nothing more than a bug under a microscope.

“Lemme help.”

Jacob considers her offer and wonders just how fucking stupid she is. Maybe his trials fried her brain, getting anywhere near an omega’s nest is dangerous, but actually helping to form it? Near suicide.

But she’s serious, he can tell. And despite the way his scent turns all nervous and sour, he thinks he’d be able to handle it. It has been a while, he wasn’t kidding about that. The last time he nested would have to be when he was living with his brothers, in Old Mad Seed’s house. He had to make it under the stairs, someplace his father couldn’t get to, he learned early on that any nest he made was at risk of being defiled.

Joseph would never enter his space, he always kept a wide berth, but their dad couldn’t care less. Sometimes Jacob assumed he must’ve enjoyed coming too near, just to make Jacob growl out of pure principle so he could have an excuse to beat him.

It’s why Jacob never let John nest on his own. The poor kid would defend his sanctuary and get punished for it.

“Let me help, please.” Rook gets to her feet slowly, looking like the slightest breeze will knock her over. “If you’re intent on letting me stay here...well you ought to have a place that’s  _ yours.”  _

It’s not a bad idea. Good enough reasoning behind it too. Jacob tells him this, that it’s practical, while he shoves how he’s actually feeling deep down inside. 

Rook finds the gifts he tucked away easily, the closet he put them in absolutely reeks of her, and she begins pulling the softest most comfortable items out. Blankets and a lone pillow, that t-shirt she mentioned. 

She tosses them in a corner, the furthest away from his bed as possible, and gives his barren room a once over. 

“Got any extra blankets? I don’t wanna strip your bed.”

Jacob points to a trunk at the foot of the bed, watching with interest as she grabs the few quilts that are stacked at the very top to add to the pile.

She’s about to rearrange the mess she’s made, kneeling down already, her hands inches away from the blankets. But she stops. Heaving in a great lungful which only reminds him once more how weak he’s made her. 

“You should finish this really. It’s your nest.”

Formalities at this point. Which is stupid, he refrains from saying. They both know the end game here, it’s why he doesn’t mind having Rook’s scent mingling with his. In what’s slowly turning into his nest. 

Jacob, done in only seconds, hesitates. He wants to get in, to lay down on his side and roll around until it’s clearly marked as his. But having an audience makes him stupidly self conscious. A feeling he never thought would be coming on so strong when he’s a handful of years away from his fortieth. 

Rook, bless her heart, gets up and turns her back. Going instead to pretend to be occupied with the faux leather couch opposite him. 

He gets the hint, however subtle she’s being. She wants him to be comfortable. To properly nest like an omega deserves to. 

It’s funny now, reflecting on it, he never thought he was entitled to such creature comforts. 

Jacob gets in his nest awkwardly. Feeling too big and old for such a thing even if he knows that’s not true. 

From somewhere ahead of him, where Rook is laying on his bed, she grins. “Good boy.” 

Jacob growls, eyes raising to meet hers in a challenge. It’s weak though, no real heat behind it. He’s kicking up a fuss for show, and she knows that, which is why she stalks forward. Kneeling down a good foot away. Breathing room, he notes wearily. Even after all he’s done to her she’s still being nice.

She holds out her hand, palm up, and waits with a patient smile until he grasps her hand. Her nails are sharp, jagged too, from where she’s bitten them. It’s hardly intimate, so much less than her scent in his nest. Then her in his room where they both know she’ll stay from now on.

But it’s the first time they’re touching without any real malice behind it. There’s a sharp understanding that passes between then that has never been there before. A twang of connection that makes his spine go tight with anxiety. It’s new and that’s fucking terrifying. 

Jacob doesn’t shy away though. Not when she lifts her other hand to ease his head down on one of the pillows, nor when she pets at his cheek and down his sternum then back again. He falls asleep like that, bare and vulnerable to the enemy in a way he knows is stupid. But her scent reveals her true intentions, always has, she’s close to her rut and already losing half her mind to the hormones flooding her system. She has no ill intentions, not towards a potential mate.

The word makes Jacob cringe.

“What’s wrong, Jake?”

Without opening his eyes he says “don’t call me that.”

“Omega?”

He grunts, but doesn’t refuse. It’s a term of endearment he’s never heard before in such sincerity. He likes it, fuck him but it sounds gorgeous coming from her. And just like that, as if some sort of metaphorical lock slides into place in the universe, the last bit of resistance and denial he had finally slips away.

And Jacob couldn’t be happier.


End file.
